Glasses
by Chellero
Summary: Carter likes Reese in glasses, so he obliges. And then some.


A/N: Thanks, wolfmusic218, as always. :)

#JossCarterIsEternal

#CareeseIsEternal

#NolanIsADumbass

"I thought you were already here." Joss finished turning the key in the doorknob of John's home as she watched him approach.

"Not yet." He waited for her to open his door and removed his dirty and disheveled black suit jacket as they entered. "Give me ten minutes."

She watched as he disappeared around the corner before plopping onto his couch to wait on him. It was date night. They had plans for Italian food and an Off-Broadway show. He was running late and didn't want to cancel so she had made her way to his place to save time. The restaurant was closer to his place than hers.

Clad in four-inch thigh-high black boots and a blue sweaterdress whose hem rested a few inches above the tops of her boots, she felt cute. Feminine. It wasn't often she got the opportunity dress up, but when those opportunities presented themselves, she relished them. She liked looking good and she liked giving John something to look at. He wasn't the only pretty one in their union. Dammit.

She reached for the remote and turned on the television to pass the time, settling on an old episode of _King of Queens_. Five minutes later, she turned her head to watch a different show as John made his way over to his dresser sporting wet hair. And nothing else. He opened the top drawer on the left and pulled out a pair of underwear.

"Think I'm gonna need a jacket?" He pulled the briefs on and headed over to his wardrobe.

It was an unseasonably warm fall day, but still fall nonetheless. "Yeah. I'm not loaning you mine."

"You'd let me freeze?" He pulled on a pair of black slacks.

She watched him and frowned. Dark jeans would have been nice. He was already letting her down. If he went for a white shirt, he was losing ten brownie points. "Yep." She watched him smile to himself and let him keep the points when he reached for a gunmetal gray dress shirt and headed back to his bathroom.

Wanting to help him along, she rose from the couch and walked over to his dresser, pulled out the top right drawer, and grabbed a pair of black trouser socks. She'd closed the drawer when she saw them. A pair of glasses. She wondered if they were the same pair he wore when he was protecting that reporter and thought glasses would keep the woman from suspecting he was the kneecap-shooting vigilante in town. They looked the same. She hadn't seen him in glasses since that case and wondered why they were sitting out on top of his dresser. Had he worn them again and she'd missed it?

She never would have told him back then but the glasses increased his attractive quotient significantly, something she didn't think was possible. There was something dichotomous about it. On him, anyway. A completely alluring combination of intelligence and sophistication, danger and sex. Not to mention the attention they drew to his captivating eyes.

She liked a man in glasses. She'd always liked a man in glasses. She liked him in glasses.

Picking them up, she tossed the socks on the couch on her way to the bathroom. She walked through the open door and stood beside him in front of the mirror while he shaved, shirt on and tucked into his pants, top buttons undone, feet still bare.

She raised her voice so she could be heard over the sound of his shaver as she unfolded the glasses and held them out in front of her, checking to see if the lenses were clean. "You should wear these."

He frowned as he jutted his chin forward, shaving the area just under his chin. "Why?"

"You look handsome in them." She put them on and inspected herself in the mirror.

John finished, turned off the shaver, and looked at her in the mirror, stifling his groan. They were simple frames, wire and semi-rimless, but she looked damn good in them. He knew glasses could be sexy, but….damn. "I'm thinking maybe you should wear them." He reached for his aftershave and finally paid attention to what else she was wearing. Blue, snug-fitting dress. Black boots that hugged her legs all the way up to her thighs. Her hair was down and almost bone straight, parted on the same side as his. He twitched in his pants.

Turning her face from side to side, still wearing the glasses, she wrinkled up her nose. "They're okay. I actually have a pair of those fashion ones at home. You know, the plastic kind. Black rims. I think they look a little better on me."

His ears perked up at that as he patted on the aftershave. He was seeing her in them now. And nothing else. He looked down at her feet. Except maybe those boots….

Joss took the glasses off and turned to him expectantly, holding them out to him.

He brought his eyes up to her face. "You really want me to wear them?"

"Yeah. You look good in them."

"They looked better on you."

She lowered the glasses and sighed in mock defeat. "You're not gonna wear them for me?" She waited. Imploring and knowing. She had no plans to point it out to him—maybe he already knew—but it never took much effort to get what she wanted from him.

She smiled as he sighed and took them from her, placing them on the counter before grabbing his comb. She turned back to the mirror and checked the eye makeup and lipstick she'd decided to don for their outing while he combed his hair.

He smirked. "I didn't know you had a glasses fetish, Detective. You should have told me. Could have put it in my arsenal sooner."

"First of all, it's not a fetish." Joss fluffed her hair. "Second, you don't need anymore weapons in your arsenal."

Finished styling his damp hair, he put the comb down and picked up the glasses. His smirk got even more obnoxious. "Really."

"Really," she concurred.

They turned to each other and she rolled her eyes at his cocky expression. She'd let him have this one, though. He earned it. She pressed her thighs together. On a regular damn basis.

He put the glasses on and stared at her. "Nothing wrong with keeping things interesting."

She swallowed. He looked absolutely fuckable in those glasses. Sexy and smart. Maybe she did have a fetish. "You getting bored?"

He took a step toward her and she took a step back. She knew that look. Determined and hyper-focused on her. That look generally caused delays. And flimsy excuses for those delays. All he had to do was look at her like that and, like Pavlov's dogs, her pussy immediately salivated.

His hands landed on her waist as he continued to follow her backward motion. When the wall put the brakes on her weak attempt to escape, he leaned down and kissed her, pulling her bottom then top lip into his mouth. "Joss."

His voice was wrapped in a deep moan and it made her moan. He smelled so damn good, too. Dinner and show tickets were jettisoned from her mind. Sometimes she hated how weak he could make her at a moment's notice.

He angled his head and kissed her again, taking his time to coax her lips apart, teasing his tongue's entrance. Pulling away only slightly, he looked into her eyes. "You will never bore me." He ratified his statement by thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth as he kissed her senseless.

Sliding his hands over her round backside, he lowered them further and pulled the hem of her dress up to her waist. The stretchy fabric bunched and stayed there as he took his mouth away from hers and lowered himself, sliding her panties down her thighs and over her black boots. She panted heavily in anticipation as he squatted and lifted her feet from the floor, one at a time, slipping her panties off. He tossed them to the side and settled onto his knees, cupping the backs of her thighs in his palms and spreading them slightly.

He sniffed at her, groaning in anticipation before he dragged his tongue along her folds, back to front, slowly drawing upward as he reached her clit. "You always taste so good."

Her thighs shook. She was already having difficulty holding herself up. One lick was all it took from him before she ignited like a stick of dynamite and waited to explode.

"Hang on, Detective."

His words should have warned her but she didn't realize until she was rising that he meant it literally. She gasped as she felt his hands grip the undersides of her thighs as he slid her up the wall. Her arms shot out on either side of her and her palms lay flat against the wall as she tried to find something, anything, to hold on to. In two fluid motions, he lifted her first to chest height and then above his head as he stood to his full height. She yelped as she found herself suspended over six feet in the air with only his hands anchoring her, spreading her wide, his tongue immediately and insistently plunging and plundering inside her. "John!"

She didn't know what to do, where to place her hands. The air up there seemed thin and she felt unsteady and he was eating her out like his life depended on it. She clung to the wall, fingers spread as her palms still laid flat. She wanted to grab his head, still needing something to hold on to, but she was scared to let go of the wall. "Oh god." Intense pleasure pulsated from her core and spread throughout her body. She felt like she was sinking and floating at the same time, on an incredible sex high and she hadn't even come yet. She knew one thing, though. It was going to be beyond intense and she would be in pieces all over his bathroom floor if he didn't catch her in time. "_Joooohn._"

He pulled his lips from hers for just a moment before he submerged himself again. "So good, Joss."

Her chest heaved as she drew in short breaths, his lust-filled voice somehow grounding her, bringing her back to the present while that familiar tingling sensation signaling her ruin began to spread to all her nerve endings. Trusting in his strength, that he wouldn't drop her, one hand slipped from the wall and reached down, nails raking over his scalp, keeping his head there. _Right_ there. "Don't stop." She tossed her head back against the wall and looked up at the high ceiling she was almost close enough to touch. The room began to spin and she whimpered as he moaned in appreciation, the vibration it caused killing her softly. "Oh god!"

She looked down at him, the top of his head, his more pepper than salt hair, those glasses. It excited her even more, watching him bring her to the brink of disaster before pushing her over, and her face contorted as her body prepared for the drop. "Please, don't stop!"

He didn't.

His hurricane tongue whipped her into a frenzy and she spiraled completely out of control seconds later. "John! John!" She peaked. It was excruciating. Then she fell, plummeting until she bottomed out. She broke, fractured. She shattered. A silent wail ripped from her throat and she convulsed sharply, pitching forward, barely feeling his grip on her quickly shift from her thighs to her waist as he lowered her until their chests aligned.

He settled his hands underneath her butt and her legs hung loosely as they violently shook, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He pressed her into the wall, holding her steady, and brought his hands up to her face, pushing her hair back as her teeth chattered. He kissed her thoroughly, yearning for more of her. He pulled his mouth from hers for only a moment. "See how good you taste?" He gave her no chance to respond before he pressed his lips and tongue to hers and swallowed her moan.

Finally getting his fill, he released her mouth and let her slide down to her feet.

She slowly began to put herself back together and closed her eyes briefly when he pressed a kiss to her forehead and pulled her dress back down. She eyed him, wondering what his next move was going to be. He was hard as a rock.

"We're late, Detective."

She didn't quite have her bearings but she was going to act like she did. He was cocky enough. "You don't say."

He had delayed them long enough. She had been looking forward to their evening out. So had he. A small taste of normalcy he was loathe to give up. He reluctantly vacated her space. "I'll go get my shoes and we can go."

Exhaling sharply she watched him lean down, pick up her panties, and pocket them. John was a serious man most of the time, but he was an undercover freak. Like the saying went, it was always the quiet ones. And now he wanted her to squirm all night, to think about what he'd just done to her. To wonder what he was going to do to her in the car, in the darkened theater, with that flimsy barrier gone and easy access granted. He wanted to torture her. "I'm gonna get you back."

"Looking forward to it." He looked pointedly at the juncture between her legs before he exited the bathroom without another word. She still throbbed and that's when she knew she had pretty much lost the game. There wouldn't be anyone else after him. He had ruined her for all other men. He had made sure of it. And she couldn't stand it.

Not liking the taste of defeat, she called out, "Your arms are gonna be sore in the morning."

"You're two pounds, Joss."

She rolled her eyes and finally felt confident enough to take a step away from the wall. She went to the mirror to try to fix whatever he'd messed up and smoothed the wrinkles from her dress. "Give me my underwear back!"

"No."

She whipped her head to the side at his answer. Did he really just tell her no? "What?" She turned and looked at him through the mirror when he appeared in the doorway, leaning on his shoulder, socks and shoes on his feet.

"You can have them back tomorrow morning."

"Who said anything about a sleepover?"

"I'm going to need you tonight."

She turned around to face him. And by the softened, serious look on his face, he wasn't lying. She walked over to him. "It's going to have to be my place." She wrapped her arms around him, knowing she could snatch her panties from his back pocket if she wanted. She wasn't going to. He knew she wasn't going to.

"Wear those glasses?" He looked down briefly. "And the boots?" He pulled her against him. He had been trying to get them on their way. Dinner and a show were calling. But he was still hard. And she felt so good.

"Only if you wear yours."

"I didn't know my combat boots turned you on, Joss."

She felt his hands running up and down her back and his gaze on her darkened. He'd tried to get them out the door. He really had. She had to give him that. "We're not going to make it to dinner, are we?"

"I can whip something up. We can still catch the show."

She unbuttoned his pants, lowering his zipper. "I told you I was going to get you back."

He smirked at her. "You can't lift me that high." He let her push him down to the floor.

"Don't need to." She settled in between his legs and licked her lips. "Hang on, John."

~End


End file.
